


had we not been called

by pana (panaceaa)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst and Romance, Excessively Flowery Prose, Fate & Destiny, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panaceaa/pseuds/pana
Summary: He stands there, the embodiment of teenage awkwardness, as Akechi sits on his bed and loosens his tie. Akira finds himself drawn to thinking about the emptiness of Akechi’s small apartment, barren and looking unlived in if it wasn’t for the few empty takeout containers he’d spotted on his way in here.“Akira?” His gaze finds his way back to Akechi who’s watching him expectantly. “We don’t have to do this.”Akira breathes in deeply through his nose and tries to quell the nervous fluttering in his gut.“I know,” he says. Because he does.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 23
Kudos: 236





	had we not been called

The light in Leblanc is normally comfortable, but on this night in particular it seems harsher than usual. Too bright, too synthetic. Akira thinks he might want to coat himself in darkness for the rest of his existence, or at least for as long as he has left. Thinks that maybe he could fix things, fix _them_ , if only he could take Goro and run from the incoming sunrise of February 3rd.

But things are never that simple. They never were. Not for them.

“Do you regret it? Us, I mean?” Akira says it as casually as he can, trying his best to hide the fact that this question has sat on the edge of his tongue for eons. He’s hidden in fear of it for so long that it’s now ingrained into the root of his soul. Shoved somewhere next to the spot where Goro Akechi has dug himself into, concrete and immovable as the boy himself.

Goro seems to weigh his own response, lips tugging into a thoughtful frown. “Well, you certainly didn’t make things easier for me. But no, I don’t regret our time together.” He says the last part with a bittersweet tilt to his lips. One that Akira can understand innately. “What about you?” Goro continues, his gaze finding Akira’s own. “You really had no idea what you were getting into, in the beginning. No idea who I really was. So tell me Akira, do _you_ regret it?”

Akira opens his mouth on a soundless answer.

The answer should be simple, but it’s not. Because he and Goro Akechi had always existed as two counterpoints sitting on the scale of simplicity. Everything about them was complicated, so it would suffice that this too would be a summation of that. It’s difficult to find a simple answer for the equation that they made together. All the pain, the betrayal, and the way they kept holding onto what they had anyway. Everything they were, and everything they were supposed to be.

Yet, Goro’s answer had come quickly. He was always so sure of himself in a way that Akira could never be. Goro never hesitated, had never wasted so much time wishing they could have had more in the way that Akira had. According to Maruki, Akira was the reason he was here after all.

So the question remained: _Did_ Akira regret being with him? Did he regret getting involved with the person Goro Akechi turned out to be?

This very well could be the last night they ever have with each other. So his answer might just be the bookend of this path they’ve walked together side by side. One that spans from their beginning to the place they are now, whether that turned out to be an end or a start of something of its own.

And so, he says-

_____________

 _Rewind._  
...  
…  
…

_This is how it starts._

Akira finds it strange that Akechi, for as busy as he seems to be, drops everything to join him at the jazz club. There’s a lot of other things he could probably be doing rather than sitting here chatting aimlessly with Akira on a surprisingly cool Saturday night in the latter half of July.

He doesn’t quite know what it is about him that seems to have caught the eye of the Detective Prince himself. And yet he calls him _interesting_ , as if that isn’t the most unbelievable thing that Akira has ever heard. It’s not that Akira’s boring. No, that chapter of his life ended the moment he’d awakened to Arsene. Or maybe it was before that, when the false charge turned his entire world on its axis and he’d started wearing glasses as a mask long before he’d awakened to his own. Still, no one had ever been _interested_ in him before, and it’s a nice feeling even if he doesn’t completely understand it.

The better half of an hour has passed with pleasant conversation. Akechi seems to be a fan of talking, and Akira is a greater fan of listening, they work well that way. Still Akechi seems more exhausted than usual, if the bags under his eyes are any indication. If Akira had to guess he’d say he hasn’t had a good amount of sleep in awhile. Probably stress. He listens to him talk about a group project for a while, a brief whirlwind of anger animating him as he explains that none of the other students are pulling their weight. Then his tirade fizzles out and he just looks _tired_.

Meanwhile, Akira has been juggling work, school, and the metaverse and even he’s pretty sure he’s never looked that worn down. He’s pretty sure there’s something else Akechi’s not telling him. Still, he doesn’t ask.

Today’s drink is some sort of bright red non-alcoholic concoction. It tastes a little bit like black cherry, but also has a hint of apple and something that might be either cranberry or pomegranate.

Akira takes a drink.

“I actually had a dream the other day where I fucked you on this table.”

Red droplets scatter across the wooden table as Akira chokes. “Oh?!” he manages to wheeze amidst his sudden coughing fit.

“Oh, are you alright?” Akechi questions him, eyes widening as if he could have possibly expected any other reaction. “Sorry if that was too bold of me,” he adds with a faux innocent smile when it becomes clear that Akira is only actually dying on the inside. “I just thought you might not be averse to that information. My apologies if I’ve been misreading things.”

 _Misreading what_? _!_ Akira kind of wants to scream, because as far as he knew there had been no warning for this. Sure their interactions might have bordered on flirting, but everything had always been bathed in subtly. There was nothing subtle about _this_.

And yet, Akechi’s gazing at him with a quiet question. Akira attempts to distract himself by wiping the table with a napkin, but now all he can think about is himself bent over the table with Akechi over him, around him, in him until he can’t even breathe-

“Do you...normally have dreams like that?” Akira asks as he fiddles with the napkin, the white now stained a deep red.

Akechi makes a thoughtful noise. Rests his chin in the palm of his hand and lets the intensity of his gaze continue to burn Akira alive.

“On occasion,” Akechi says. “Does that bother you?”

“No, I wouldn’t say I was bothered by it.” An understatement.

“Then is it something that interests you?”

“I...don’t think they’d approve of that in here,” Akira says, and Akechi nods in agreement, his lips tilting into a small smile as if he already knows what’s coming next. “But maybe at Leblanc?”

At the mention of Leblanc Akechi’s nose curls up a little in distaste. “I think my apartment would be a more acceptable option.”

It’s a fairly strange reaction, especially since he seems to like to spend so much time there. Then again, Akira’s not too fond of the possibility of running into Sojiro, or having to explain to Akechi why his bed is sitting on top of milk crates.

“Okay,” he agrees. “So, there then.”

What he just agreed to doesn’t exactly register until Akechi is suddenly standing from the table, briefcase in hand as he gazes at him expectantly.

“Well, are you coming?”

“Right now?”

Akechi arches a brow at him. “Did you have something else planned for the evening?”

When he rises from his own seat to follow after Akechi, he makes it clear that he doesn’t.

***

It’s not that Akira never thought about having sex with Akechi before. He’s a teenage boy after all, and Goro Akechi was attractive, and seemed to genuinely like him, and looked at him as if he was looking past everything else to only find _Akira_. It was a nice feeling. Addictive. Still for as much as he’s thought about it, he’s never really done it. As in, had sex. Or really any kind of romantic relationship since that girl he dated for a few weeks a few years back.

So, it’s only natural that he’s a bit nervous.

He stands there, the embodiment of teenage awkwardness, as Akechi sits on his bed and loosens his tie. Akira finds himself drawn to thinking about the emptiness of Akechi’s small apartment, barren and looking unlived in if it wasn’t for the few empty takeout containers he’d spotted on his way in here.

“Akira?” His gaze finds his way back to Akechi who’s watching him expectantly. “We don’t have to do this.”

Akira breathes in deeply through his nose and tries to quell the nervous fluttering in his gut.

“I know,” he says. Because he does.

When he sits next to Akechi they’re close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off his body. There’s still so much he’s uncertain about, but he knows he wants to touch him. He allows himself to be brave and he does, slowly bringing one hand up to rest against Akechi’s cheek. Their eyes meet and his breath catches.

He is still young, they both are, and yet he knows enough to realize that he’s standing on the crux of something that he can’t yet understand the weight of. Knows it as well as he knows the warmth of Akechi’s cheek against his palm, and the way his breath falters at his touch.

“This is only about sex,” he tells him as if Akira doesn’t already know. Yet he doesn’t move away from his touch despite his words.

“Akechi, I don’t know if I’m ready for _that_. Not yet,” he admits, half expecting Akechi to laugh and ask him what the hell he’s doing here then.

He doesn’t.

Instead his gaze continues to bore into his own. Makes him feel vulnerable, raw, exposed in a way he never really has before. It’s as terrifying as it is thrilling.

Akechi’s voice is softer than he’s ever heard it when he asks:

“Then what would you like to do, Akira?”

And he knows they’re at a point of no return. Standing at the precipice of something so much larger than they are. Akira is fundamentally terrified of taking the plunge, yet finds himself unable to resist the temptation of the fall.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks him, more a plea than a question.

He thinks Akechi might roll his eyes, but then he’s leaning in and suddenly that’s the only thing that matters. Akira stays remarkably still, terrified and consumed with anticipation that lines his every nerve. Despite the unexpected turn of the evening, Akira becomes suddenly and soul-crushingly aware that he _wants_ to be here. That this is exactly where he belongs. Where they both do.

And then Akechi closes the final distance between them and there’s no more room in his mind for thinking.

There’s something almost harsh in the way that Akechi kisses. His lips are soft and wet against his, but he presses a little too hard, bruising in intensity and relentless. Akira is more than willing to take whatever he gives, that is until one of his teeth somehow ends up scraping his lip, and Akira backs off with a startled laugh.

“Um ow.”

His smile only grows when he notices the flushed quality of Akechi’s skin. Notices how his breaths are a little bit heavy, and how he avoids his eyes as if he’s actually embarrassed. It’s cute.

“Sorry,” he says. “I haven’t exactly done this before.”

“It’s fine,” Akira says. “Just watch your teeth.”

Akira’s already leaning in again by the end of his sentence. He finds he’s a little less nervous now, more willing to take the lead and set the pace. It’s a bit messy and unpracticed, but a thrill shoots to the base of his spine with every press of their lips. He places his hand back on Akechi’s cheek, slides his other one to wrap around his waist to pull him closer. One of them makes a sound, some kind of cross between a groan and a whine. And then Akechi’s hands are in his hair and slipping down his sides and below his shirt in a way that leaves him aching and desperate for more.

When Akechi reaches for his zipper he pauses in an unspoken question, and quickly Akira nods. Clothes are quickly shed and it’s not long before Akechi has them both grasped in his hand.

The crescendo comes in tandem and afterwards they’re left with their foreheads pressed together, trembling.

***

Exactly two weeks later and Akira is on Akechi’s bed again. Half a month and it’s already the seventh time he’s found himself here, but not like this. Never like this. Equipped with the knowledge of exactly what they’re going to do, how far they’re finally going to go. Akechi is hovering over him, knuckle deep inside him, and it’s still not enough, might never be enough.

There’s a fire burning underneath his skin. Every nerve ending alighting and begging for some amount of relief. Deep into the root of his very innate nature, that where he is most base, he wants nothing more than for Goro Akechi to consume his every waking thought. Wants the line to blur between where they begin and end until nothing else matters.

“Can I call you Goro?” He finds himself asking because he’s already being consumed by _something_ much stronger than him. It’s terrifying in its intensity and he thinks he might actually die if he’s forced to remain on a last-name basis by the end of the night.

Akechi’s fingers go still and no, no _this_ might be the thing that finally kills him. He groans and eyes Akechi with betrayal, watches him calmly arch a brow at him instead.

“You’re asking that, _now_?”

“Should I have waited until the main event?”

Goro laughs, one of the uglier sounding ones that Akira only rarely gets to hear. It makes his heart pound that much harder. “I suppose we’re a little past formalities.”

“Only a little-” He adds a third finger alongside the other two, Akira’s words cutting off with a choked gasp. Goro smirks down at him, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“You were saying?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he can’t help but squirm a little. “Okay enough with the banter, can we hurry this up already?”

There’s a little bit of fumbling, a couple moments where impatience mixed with inexperience makes their hands clumsy. That ends quickly though, and then just like that, they’re connected for the first time.

“Is this acceptable?” Goro says against his lips, tone breathy and sounding more desperate than cocksure in the way he’d probably been intending. Akira knows what he’s really asking. _Am I acceptable?_

Akira kisses him again in answer.

Neither of them lasts long. They come together with Akechi’s teeth biting the flesh of his shoulder and Akira’s hands grasping at his back.

In a few moments they’ll get themselves together, Akira will put on his clothes, and he’ll leave the apartment like nothing ever happened.

Yet they linger like that for several moments, Goro shaking with something that might be exhaustion and might not be, while Akira cards his hand soothingly through his hair.

It won’t hit him until later what the growing feeling in his chest is. It will take him longer to accept it.

***

When he sends Goro a text asking to come over, or receives one asking if anyone’s around at Leblanc, Akira sometimes wonders if maybe he’s digging himself too far into a point of no return. When he sees Akechi smile at him from his usual seat at the counter, or laugh unexpectedly in a way that lights up his face, he knows he already has.

***

“Have you thought about making this serious?” Akira asks him one night at Leblanc.

It’s late so the shop is closed and Mona has stepped out, and so they know they have approximately twenty to thirty minutes before he gets back. He knows this in the same way he knows that this time it will be hurried and dirty like it always seems to be, usually ending with Akira pushed against a wall or any available surface.

“How so?” Goro asks him, already in the process of removing his pants.

“You know, like _dating_?”

It’s something he’s been considering for a while now. They’re nearly two months into whatever it is they have, and for as much as he loves the sex he can’t help but want something more solid. Something to turn off that annoying voice in his head that constantly wonders if _this_ time is going to be the last.

Goro only scoffs.

“And so, you’re asking for what? Flowers? Dinner under candlelight?” He shakes his head as if the very thought is ridiculous. “Please, we’d both be bored within the hour.”

Akira smiles sadly. “You’re saying that’s why we’d never work?”

Now completely undressed, Goro crosses the room to come up behind him, his very presence at his back sending a quiet thrill through his veins. Leaning in close enough that his breath brushes against the back of Akira’s neck, he says, “No, Akira. I’m saying that’s precisely why we do.”

***

He knows Goro is hiding things from him. Knows it as well as he knows anything. He’d help him carry that burden if he’d let him. If he didn’t avoid Akira’s questioning looks as if opening up might be the end of him. Maybe he thought it would be. As October fastly approaches, Akira has a strong guess of what it is he’s hiding, but he doesn’t dare question him on it.

In truth, sometimes he wishes Goro could be anyone but who he is. Hates that he loves him anyway.

***

They’re both still sweaty and tangled together on Akira’s bed. Since Mona’s staying with Futaba, for once they actually have the cafe to themselves for the night.

Akira would be content to lay here forever, Goro’s weight solid and warm against him, always fleeting, but for just a few moments Akira can allow himself to pretend that they’re something more than they are.

When Goro attempts to get up to leave, as he always inevitably does, Akira finds himself already missing him. Before he can even register what he’s doing, he’s pulling him back down towards him again.

“Why don’t you stay the night?”

“And why would I do that?” Goro asks with a raised brow and a look that says he thinks the very notion is a fundamentally insane concept. Akira counters it with pure charm.

“Because it’s already late and I know from experience that you’re very attractive to any thief who could be out there lurking the night.”

If Goro’s impressed by his analogy he doesn’t show it. Doesn’t give him anything besides a deadpan look.

“I didn’t realize you cared,” he says flatly.

This at least has Akira finally sitting up in order to look at him better. If it was meant as a joke that was one thing, but Goro always had a habit of hiding what he really felt in plain sight. And the mere concept that he could possibly think that Akira didn’t care about him, after everything-

“Of course I do,” Akira says weakly. “Goro, I…”

He wants to _tell_ him but comes up short on the actual word. He knows the feeling, cannot deny the way it twists around his heart and squeezes until he can hardly breathe. Goro Akechi is cold, distant, and difficult on the best of days, but Akira wants him all the time with such reckless abandon that it can’t be healthy. But he doesn’t care. If Goro asked for his heart, he’d cut it out of his chest cavity with his own dagger, would present it to him and tell him it was always his anyway. That he could do with it what he wished.

Whatever look must be on his face must translate to the words he can’t say because Goro suddenly looks horrified.

“...Are you trying to say that you love me, Akira?”

He shrugs, hiding his fear of rejection under thinly veiled nonchalance. “Would that really be that terrible?”

“More than you can imagine,” Goro says, tone frigid as he stands and starts putting on his clothes while Akira sits there, helpless. “What we have isn’t love, get that through your head already. Once you understand that things will be much easier.”

Akira doesn’t try to stop him this time, only watches him in silence until he vanishes down the attic steps, hearing when the door opens and then closes behind him.

Once he’s gone, Akira flops on his back and tries to think of things to calm himself. Dreams of having a palace of his own where he’s the sole occupant, up until the point Goro shows up to shove a gun down his throat.

***

It doesn’t get easier.

***

When he first hears the recording of the call he doesn’t want to believe it. It’s not that Goro was a murderer that gets him, it’s not even the name of the person he’s working for. No. No, the worst part is that he’d been planning to kill him, and despite the betrayal he still…

He still...

He feels stripped down to the core of his being. Naked, vulnerable in a way he never has before. There is a small part of him that cries out from that little dark place he once shoved it in. Calls him a fool for believing that someone like Goro Akechi could ever have honest feelings for him.

And yet…

For as much as he understands the natural order of the world and the universe, he knows that not everything could possibly be a lie. There was truth there. Scattered in glances shot his way when Goro hadn’t known he’d been looking, and the brush of fingertips against his skin while he pretended to be asleep.

Perhaps he earned the title of Fool for more than one reason. For it was a foolish notion to believe he could ever change Goro Akechi’s heart.

 _Still_ , he dreamt.

***

Betrayal should mean that the peace between the traitor and the soon to be betrayed should be torn down and relinquished to the grand scheme of the world. All civility thrown out as they go their separate ways until it’s time for the tides to turn.

For Akira, betrayal means something else. That is, when his betrayer is Goro Akechi who’s wearing his favorite argyle blue sweater vest, sitting at the spot that has at some point become _his_ at Leblanc’s counter.

“You’ve seemed more distant lately,” Goro says, putting down his coffee cup. “Is everything okay?”

He seems genuinely concerned, which is nice of him. All things considered.

“ _You_ want to talk about feelings now?” Akira doesn’t intend to be cruel, but guilt takes its hold when he sees the way Goro noticeably deflates.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Goro says with a very tired sounding sigh. “Over the course of our time together, it does make sense that the lines would have begun to blur for us both.” He smiles, the TV one that Akira knows is forced. “Maybe it’s for the best that we end this now. After Sae-san’s palace we’ll no longer have any reason to see each other, after all.”

“We could, if you wanted.” He chooses to focus on the last part, ignores all the rest. The implication of what he’s saying lurks like cobwebs in the corner that Akira pretends not to notice, instead walking over and flipping the store sign to _closed_.

“Things are rarely so simple...” Goro thinks, and swallows. “Life’s largest dichotomy often ends up being between what we want and what we need to do.”

“So you do want me?”

“Of course that’s what you’d take from that.”

Goro sounds more amused than annoyed, so Akira knows he’s winning for now. Takes that as his cue to approach him, leaning down until his lips are but a breath away from Goro’s own. But as expected Goro doesn’t give him any ground, remaining completely still as his unwavering gaze bores into his own.

Akira’s lips curl into a smirk. “But it’s true, isn’t it?”

He’s not really sure what he’s expecting. Fire maybe. A fit of annoyed ferocity that will end with Akira pinned against the counter with Goro’s tongue shoved down his throat.

That’s not what he gets.

Instead, in a rare moment of tenderness, Goro reaches up and gently cups his jaw.

“I absolutely despise you,” he whispers like a promise, eyes half-lidded as he leans in.

The kiss is unlike any that they’ve shared before- filled with a quiet desperation and something that might be yearning. Akira’s fingers tangle in Goro’s hair as he’s quickly robbed of breath and can’t even find it in him to care. Heat fills his every vein, even as his heart aches as if in mourning of something he’s never had.

At one point, Goro pulls back, face flushed and looking torn in a way Akira’s never seen him before. His lips part on some unspoken word. Maybe it’s the answer to all of Akira’s problems, or maybe it’s just something other than a lie. Whatever it is, Akira never finds out because he seems to think better of it, leaning in back in and pressing his lips against his. Chaste and achingly gentle.

That seems to set the tone for the rest of the evening.

By the time they make it upstairs they’re breathless and one of them can’t stop shaking. They remove each other’s clothes slowly, as if savoring every moment they have together. When they come together as one, Goro is softer and more gentle than he’d been since their very first time.

Afterwards, Goro doesn’t leave immediately. Not like he usually does. Instead he lingers. His head against Akira’s chest as Akira plays with his hair.

Akira’s on the cusp of sleep, unsure if he’s already dreaming, when he hears Goro softly say, “Sometimes, I do wish that you hated me.”

And the next morning, Akira wakes up alone.

***

_This is how it ends:_

Not with a bang, no that comes later. That is, working under the assumption that the story is still in that relentless pursuit of his own murder. His blood splattered over the wall of the interrogation room, mirroring how his heart feels as it’s forcibly removed from his chest and stepped on.

The worst part is, he’d allowed himself to hope he could change things. Change him. Change his mind at least. But Goro Akechi is as solid and immovable as the day he met him, his mask not red and pointed, but molded through practice and time.

“We’re done, Joker,” he says, voice like the edge of a knife. “Move on.”

The light of the Jazz Club casts shadows on his form. It makes him look as beautiful as he does terrible, a symphony of colorless tones that only accentuate the mask. It makes Akira want to shake him. Question him why he’s doing this now, only one short week before the day they steal Sae’s treasure. He’d invited him out tonight thinking it’d be like any other, not that it’d end with the two of them like this. One in light, one in shadow, Akira’s heart beating feebly somewhere between them.

“Why?” Akira questions, raw and sliced open.

If Goro still intended to kill him then what is the point of all this? If the end result is always the same, then why break things off at all. This just seems needlessly cruel.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” The cryptic remark hangs, and Akira has nothing to say to that, not without giving far too much away. So, Akira says absolutely nothing. Hero of his story and yet powerless to cross the quickly growing chasm between them. Maybe it had always been there, for as unwilling as Akira was to acknowledge it. It was nice to pretend that they’d been on the same side of the divide, at least for a while.

Before Goro turns the street corner and leaves Akira alone in the dark, he pauses. Hope briefly comes back to life again, fluttering around in his chest like a moth to a flickering flame. Through the shadow, a brief glimpse of something raw shows on Goro’s face. Something pained. Something real. “I’m...sorry, Akira,” he tells him, for a moment looking terribly small and lost. Without the determination and the anger and the masks there is only Goro, the one he never wants anyone to see.

And then he’s gone.

A few days later, with a glove thrown in his direction, Akechi will tell him he hates him.

The leather is soft and familiar in the palm of his hand, and the words aren’t as harsh as Akechi probably intends them to be. There’s a line there, one they crossed long ago that always wavered on the border between love and hatred. One was just easier to admit than the other.

A few days after that, Akechi will hold a gun up to the forehead of his cognition, and Akira will wonder if things could have ever gone differently.

***

***

_Fast-forward._

The time from the end of his justice to the end of the world is punctuated by moments of mind-numbing clarity in the cacophony of events that range from terrible to tragedy. Each event ingrains itself into his very essence, carves out what was left of the boy and replaces it with the titles of _leader_ and _hero_.

Goro Akechi dies on the other side of a wall Akira cannot break. As fitting an end to their little tragedy as any. The steps of their relationship had always been bathed in inevitable bloodshed, one of them had always been destined to die. He’d tried to save him and he failed. Some hero he was.

Except he cannot stop himself from asking, in the moments before he loses what he’s tried so desperately to hold onto, if this is really how their story ended? A bulkhead door between them. Akechi bested by his own cognition. Where was the justice in that? He’d never know what it felt like to grow old. To graduate highschool. To know what it felt like to truly be at peace with himself. Or to live life without a plan and be free. All robbed by the man who’d treated him as a gun, aimed and pulled the trigger.

And so Akira says, “I’ll hold onto your glove,” and lets that serve as a promise that he’d see him again someday.

Still, the grief he feels in the time after is an angry and violent thing. Morgana seems concerned some days, but Akira reassures him that everything is fine. The others will never understand the nature of his and Akechi’s relationship, and it’s not as if Akira can afford to be weak when they need him to lead.

And so, as the world crumbles around them and blood rains from the sky, Akira finds himself in the final stages of acceptance. He’d been named a trickster, had rebelled against the world, and yet his every action had only ever been part of a game hand crafted by a god. Had played right into their hand. He and Akechi both. They’d only ever been able to tug at the strings that bound them from the very beginning.

So, he rebels against that too. Fires a single shot through the head of the god who thought it was okay to take away their chance of being normal. Even if, some quiet little hesitant voice in his head tells him that he’s no longer so sure who he’d be without all this. Isn’t sure if he even remembers what it feels like to _be_ normal.

Not that he really has a chance to worry much about that, for not long after the world ends, it decides to end again.

Only this particular fall is a lot more tempting. The chains of the world release him and he is left falling. Hope and a more intensive feeling breathing life into his veins once more.

And so, Goro Akechi enters his life again.

***

***

_Pause._

There’s not a singer in the jazz club tonight, but the music is soothing all the same. It brings up a melancholy air, reminding Akira of beginnings and endings. Where they started what might have been a lifetime ago, and yet where they’ve ended up now. Akechi turned _Goro_ once more, sitting across from him at the table, impossibly and undeniably.

It seems insane but somehow, between exploring the palace with its never-ending white hallways and the looming threat of their deadline coming ever closer, Akira finds something that might be peace.

Goro has remained distant, but in a different way this time around. They’ve had their run of physical intimacy, and it had been a good one while it lasted. The best. Even if how it ended still hurts to think about.

So, they keep it simple this time. Neither of them bring up the past, and they slowly move on in this new future. Not that they’re not seeing each other anymore, at least in the literal sense of the word. As it were, Akira would say that they’ve been seeing more of each other than they ever had before.

And somehow, in an ironic twist of fate, things between them somehow feel more real now. No more masks. No more lies. Only a hushed and quiet intimacy that had always existed between them, like the pull of an unbreakable bond.

Akira had really missed him.

“So I think we can both agree that things have been weird lately,” Akira says, his voice layered with false nonchalance, “but you have to admit things aren’t all bad.”

Goro gives him a look. Takes a deliberate sip from his drink before answering.

“Considering he’s actualizing people’s wishes I think it’d be a failure on his end if everything was terrible.” His eyes narrow. “Why, are you having second thoughts?”

“No, of course not.”

“ _Joker_.”

Akira’s not sure why he brought this up, but now Goro’s gaze feels piercing and he fidgets under the intensity. But there’s been a quiet doubting inside of him, one he’d always been afraid to voice because he’s supposed to be a hero, a leader, the savior of the world- someone who’s not supposed to waver in uncertainty. And yet there’s something about being with Goro that makes him want to forget all of that. Makes him kind of want to stay here forever.

“I’m not having second thoughts.” He is, but he won’t tell him that. “It’s just...nice seeing everyone so happy.”

Goro scowls. “You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment again. I’d hoped you’d have learned better by now.”

He really doesn’t have to remind him of that, and it feels like a low blow. There’s a part of him that wants to avoid talking about the past even as he himself continues to exist within its borders. Yet there’s something else within him that is beginning to boil, a simmering anger that he’d kept unchecked and buried for far too long.

“ _Again_?” Akira throws back. “So you want to talk about us now?”

Goro’s eyes narrow, his face like stone. “There never was an _us_. Was that not made clear enough for you?”

“You mean when you broke up with me, or when you shot me in the head?” Akira retorts, only realizing what he’s said when Goro’s face goes ashen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

The laugh that comes out of Goro’s mouth sounds half choked. “For the love of god, Joker, don’t apologize to _me_. What is _wrong_ with you?” He sounds as if he’s on the verge of genuine laughter, something Akira hadn’t heard from him in a long time, and feared he’d never hear again. It warms his heart a little, even if it still hurts.

“I don’t know,” Akira shrugs, his smile sheepish. “I just missed you, and I don’t want to scare you away I guess.”

“You’re an absolute fool,” Goro tells him, fondness bleeding through his exasperation.

Akira can’t exactly contest that, so he doesn’t. Still, even as he finds himself warmed by the comfort this moment of peace brings him, he can’t prevent his mind from wandering. There are a million thoughts that have been plaguing him, the specifics of living within a false reality wanting him to question things that probably won’t really matter in the end.

But still...

“Goro, can I ask you something?”

“It’s not as if I could stop you,” he says looking amused. Takes another sip of his drink.

Akira takes a slow sip of his own, thinking.

“This is supposed to be everyone’s perfect reality,” he begins once he finds the right words. “But outside of knowing nothing is real and the whole being let out of prison thing, have you actually gotten anything during all this?” He pauses, and swallows. “ _Are_...you happy?”

Goro makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, but manages not to look surprised. Takes a moment to stare intently down at his drink.

“I suppose it’s fairly nice to be nobody,” he answers eventually, avoiding the root of the question.

And that entire concept is laughable. Goro Akechi couldn’t be _nobody_ if he tried. Then again, that’s probably the point. Goro had built himself from nothing and had made himself important for everyone who didn’t matter. The fundamentals were there. An orphan boy rising above his station, becoming a prince to take down his powerful father. There was something poetic in that, something storybook worthy, like an old fashioned hero.

The tie knots in Akira’s throat again, finding it so easy to think of a Goro much smaller clinging to this innocent ideal of justice and following it until it ultimately destroyed him. If not for this, if not for the power gifted by a twisted god, maybe things could have been different. Maybe Goro would have never known normal, but maybe being a nobody seems more appealing to him than where he ended up. Everything he ever worked towards having amounted to nothing.

 _You’re somebody to me_ , Akira doesn’t say.

Perhaps he remains silent out of fear of rejection, or maybe it’s because he knows it won’t change anything anyway.

***

Their little reprieve doesn’t last for long. Eventually it comes to an end, as all things inevitably do. Only Akira wishes he could have a little more time. A lifetime with Goro would have been ideal, but he’d have taken a few years. Would have clung to them desperately with all of his being, made sure Goro got to live his life properly for once. Would have made sure he was happy, for as much time as they had left.

After Maruki gives them the news he leaves and Akira and Goro sit down on opposite sides of the booth in Leblanc.

Akira never asked to be a hero. Never asked for his very existence to be drawn up on a string, hand chosen by a god when he only ever wanted to be normal. Goro never asked to be born into a tragedy. Was powerless to deny the power he’d been given after he’d gone so long with the word _victim_ scrawled in deep dark letters across his skin. Akira has tried to picture him as anyone else. As someone who’d grown up wanted, who smiled without any shadows telling of his scars. Perhaps this version of him should be appealing, yet strangely enough it only makes Akira think of cognitions and people brought back to life off the tail-ends of a dream.

The truth of the matter is simple.

For as much as they pull at the chains of their tough and cheated existence, ultimately it was fruitless. What they had, what they had chosen for themselves had been nice, for a while.

But ultimately it would only have ever come to this.

So, that’s his answer.

There is something profoundly bittersweet in the lilt of his smile, melancholy for the lives they were denied, and he says-

_______________________

“I like you just the way you are.”

Any other person might need further explanation. Might need essays crafted with far too many words to understand what it is he’s really saying. Goro’s never needed that. They’re two sides of the same coin. Thesis and Antithesis. Always have been.

Goro’s eyes flick away for a moment, the bittersweet quirk of his lips matching Akira’s like a mirror. Without any words at all, he reaches over and places his hand over his, connecting them once more.

This time Akira doesn’t question it. Instead he flips his hand so they’re palm to palm, intertwines their fingers like a promise.

In a few hours the sun will ultimately rise as it always does. Everything they are and everything they were will be left as fragments of memories. Maybe it was never possible for them to fight against their inherent nature, but to fight for control of their futures is the one thing they can hold onto. Together.

It might not be Akira’s call to judge the logistics of reality. Maybe the heat of Goro’s palm against his exists only in this fragmented timeline, only existing on the boundaries of what he always wanted and what he knows to be true.

And yet...

And yet, in this moment, while under the dim light of Leblanc during their last night of a false reality, Goro Akechi is fundamentally the most honest and real thing Akira has ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my attempt to tie in boyish innocence & intimacy with the much larger concept of destiny. To kind of serve as a study of the two. I'm not really sure if I succeeded with that in the end, but I'm pretty happy with this anyways. 
> 
> Comments/criticisms are very welcome!! 
> 
> You can find me on Twitter~ @pana_pancake


End file.
